One windy afternoon a man on a bicycle struggled up to the door of Stanesland Castle and while waiting for an answer to his ring, studied the front of that ancient building with an expression which would at once have informed his intimates that he was meditating on the principles of Scottish baronial architecture. A few minutes later Mr. Bisset was shown into the laird of Stanesland's smoking room and addressed Mr. Cromarty with a happy blend of consciousness of his own importance and respect for the laird's. "I have taken the liberty of calling, sir, for to lay before you a few fresh datas." "Fire away," said the laird. "In the first place, sir, I understand that you have been making enquiries through the county yourself, sir; is that not so?" "I've been through this blessed county, Bisset, from end to end to see whether I could get on the track of any suspicious stranger. I've been working both with the police and independent of the police, and I've drawn blank." Bisset looked distinctly disappointed. "I've heard, sir, one or two stories which I was hoping might have something in them." "I've heard about half a dozen and gone into them all, and there's nothing in one of them." "Half a dozen stories?" Bisset's eye began to look hopeful again. "Well, sir, perhaps if I was to go into some of them again in the light of my fresh datas, they might wear, as it were, a different aspect." "Well," said Ned. "What have you found? Have a cigar and let's hear what you've been at." The expert crackled the cigar approvingly between his fingers, lit it with increased approval, and began: "Yon man was behind the curtains all the time." "The devil he was! How do you know?" "Well, sir, it's a matter of deduction. Ye see supposing he came in by the door, there are objections, and supposing he came in by the windie there are objections. Either way there are objections which make it difficult for to accept those theories. And then it struck me--the man must have been behind the curtains all the while!" "He must have come either by the door or window to get there." "That's true, Mr. Cromarty. But such minor points we can consider in a wee while, when we have seen how everything is otherwise explained. Now supposing we have the murderer behind the curtains; that brings him within six feet of where the wee table was standing. How did he get Sir Reginald to come to the table? He made some kind of sound. What kind of sound? Some imitation of an animal; probably of a cat. How did Sir Reginald not cry out when he saw the man? Because he never did see the man! How did he not see him?" "Man was a ventriloquist and made a sound in the other direction," suggested Ned with extreme gravity.